


for now i will {stay alive}

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Bandom, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, Trench - Twenty One Pilots (Album), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: (apologies if my theories or symbols clash with the already established stuff), Alternate Universe - Dema, Alternate Universe - Trench (Album), Cross-Posted on Wattpad, DEMA (Twenty One Pilots), Dema!verse, Gen, Hope, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), References to Depression, Song: Leave The City, Song: Neon Gravestones, Suicidal Thoughts, Symbolism, Theories, Trench!verse, Visions, Wordcount: Over 1.000, surreal art references, vialism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: There were two ways to leave Dema for good. (Well, three if you counted the Banditos, but nobody was supposed to talk about them, isn't that right?)





	for now i will {stay alive}

Tyler had been back in the city for about a week when the strangled cry broke him from his sleep.

He couldn't see the moon from his window (though force of habit of watching the moon's cycle from Trench would've told him the shape was now a waning and dying crescent), but he knew it was that long because he'd had a horrid dream for every night. In tonight's edition, he'd been ankle-deep in the river and out of breath from the long chase, looking up and hoping to see the Banditos on the cliffs drop their protective flowers- but no such thing. The cliffs were no longer made up of the tall green-grey rocks, but rippling columns of that dreaded red, glowering hoods atop. And falling from the skies were flutters of red that appeared paper-thin, but when Tyler held a hand out, one melted on touching his skin and trickled down like blood.

His first sight upon waking was the mass of glowing neon tubes in the center of his room, throwing meek shadows on the walls. Artifice of heat. Tyler curled his thin blanket tighter around himself as if that would actually help.

Seven shallow breaths before he heard the approaching whispered shuffle of feet, the sound briefly swelling outside his room and body stayed still save for the gorge threatening to rise in his throat, _Please don't come in here I'll be good I'll never run away again-_

The footfalls disappeared down the hall, punctuated by a turning key. Tyler's body stung with the memory of a long-ago punishment after asking why did they bother having doors to their rooms if the Bishops had keys anyway.

Three long minutes before the footsteps sounded again down the hall and past his door, behind them a noise akin to dragging a bag of heavy refuse.

There was one less person from Tyler's district at the next gathering.

***

_"You don't have to turn back, Tyler. You never have to see that city again."_

_Typically he trusted that voice, but he still had the compulsion to look, to be absolutely sure he'd escaped that hellhole for good._

_The nine towers stood tall as ever, even if they were now crumbling with faint tendrils of smoke seeping from the cracks. Dema was destroyed and everyone was free._

_Tyler glanced to his hands and idly wondered when he'd gained x-ray vision because the bones were as visible as if his skin was melting away-_

_"I told you not to turn back."_

***

There were two ways to leave Dema for good. (Well, three if you counted the Banditos, but nobody was supposed to talk about them, isn't that right, Mr. Joseph?) For those who died honorably (even if that usually meant collapsing from overwork or malnutrition, but we still don't talk about that, do we?), they were taken to the highest tower for the purification ceremony, where the spirit and the flesh would depart from the vessel and then the proper disposal could take place. One more vial in the city to glow brightly and everyone to be reminded of who had passed.

Then there were those who cheated, prematurely sought their own demise. Their bodies were unceremoniously taken to just beyond the city wall for a quick burial, reminding Tyler of stories from the world before that those who died a disgraceful death were not allowed to be buried on church grounds. Couldn't have any shame upon their perfect, pristine world.

But even with their bodies gone, the essence of their doomed spirits still lingered around Dema, an eerie mist creeping in every corner. Their names would be muttered in a tone akin to sad reverence from the residents out of earshot where they couldn't be punished for saying so.

"Michael was too young..."

"At least Sarah is out of here..."

No proper memorial for the losers, but still the prize of memory. Tyler couldn't help feeling uneasy at the realization.

***

_It was less of a dream, more of a memory tinged with falling into madness when the subconscious' protective barrier failed. It was the first time he'd been caught after escaping. He wasn't wearing the red of the Bishops' robes but still surrounded by the heavy fabric, his mind and body aching like he'd been struck by lightning after his punishment._

_"They're not looking for you anymore, Tyler," the deep and heavy voice was distorted to his ears. "You're not important to them. There's no need to run." The mantra had been repeated enough to sink Tyler into despair for a long time before he next attempted to leave._

***

The thought had crossed his mind sometimes, not that he'd ever say it aloud. Not to the other residents of Dema, who would pretend to be shocked at him saying such things. Not to the Bishops, from whom a lecture on thinking such things would be the kindest of punishments. And certainly not to the Banditos, especially when Josh would ask what was wrong when he shivered by the fire.

The idea of dying was too easy. It wasn't a grand idea that exploded in Tyler's brain at his lowest points, but a subtle whisper creeping in whenever it felt like. There were opportunities for him to do it if he thought hard enough. He could purposely starve himself. He could aggravate an injury from a previous punishment. He could even use one of their precious neon lights, irony of ironies, just grab one and break it off no matter how much it hurt and-

His mind always stopped that thought before the inevitable conclusion and shivers coursed his body. Sure, someone would find Tyler in a mess, and his body dumped outside the city wall, but then what? Left to be talked about as a martyr to the cause on the one hand and a source of shame on the other? To have others follow in his blood-stained footsteps?

And what about the Banditos? Would they be safe as the ones left behind? So many times he'd been told he was important no matter what the Bishops drilled into him otherwise, that when the time was right he'd be remembered as the hero.

Better to be praised as the hero than the failure.

So Tyler made the decision as always to keep on going. It wasn't a bombastic passionate statement even to himself, just another whisper. But that whisper was enough.

***

Yellow was the grandest color, one not seen naturally within the walls of Dema. It was the color of the flowers that grew in the nooks and crannies of the rocks, the flowers Tyler kept secretly in his room as a reminder. It was the color of glorious warm and real sunlight, like the sky in his dream where the vultures circled about.

It was the color of the campfires that brought real heat, and the torches that would inevitably appear on the horizon to help lead him and others away.

It was the color of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Tyler's dreams/visions are modeled from artwork of Polish surreal artist Zdzisław Beksiński - [these](https://alchetron.com/cdn/zdzisaw-beksiski-890d9888-67c7-406b-9759-5d4a0fcb714-resize-750.jpeg) [specific arts](https://www.wallpaperflare.com/zdzis%C5%82aw-beksi%C5%84ski-pincels-painting-architecture-wallpaper-mhijd) [in respective](https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/581668108097565362/?lp=true) [order](https://beks.pl/produkt/zdzislaw-beksinski-obraz-ag85/). Shout-out to [Narachamus](https://www.youtube.com/user/Narachamus/) and his video [Tableaux vivants: 60 Art pieces recreated in Horror Films](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-uJbQNTyZw) for the inspirational nudge.


End file.
